


Out of All the Things That I Have Lived, the Best By Far Was You

by PhoenixofFire177



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Multi, Tags May Change, a/o/b dynamics tho, all this is pre slash and then it gets better, and angst for days, and slavery bc these people were shitty, and tonnes of cursing, and yknow canon time line and all, domestic violence too, except not bc im pulling in some events that actually happened but they arent in the musical, i dunno man my fren wanted this sin, i wrote this before tryin to sleep, im so sorry dudes, ish, just not with jefferson and madison, like a lot, oh yeah theres period accurate homophobia, so its basically gay us history, soulmate crap, theres also arranged marriages, theres blood and gore and violence, uh... theres rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixofFire177/pseuds/PhoenixofFire177
Summary: When your son wakes up one morning complaining of seeing his first colour at the age of four, people talk. Especially when the child in question is usually always sick and most of the things he’s said after waking up were fever-induced delusions. However, the rumours aren’t brutal or scathing. Instead, the dinner parties are buzzing with the concept that a mere child has already developed his indicator. Ladies, with their delicate fans, would jealously whisper in the corners. Men would laugh heartily and wink at the boy, their smiles saying more than they ever could. ‘Take care that this development doesn’t interfere with our society.’ Whether you as a parent support this or not, it is true. Whether he likes it or not, he has an obligation. It’s simple, really. But to the mind of a four year old, this is anything but simple. This is to be expected. However when such matters do go wrong… it makes for quite a story. In fact, perhaps the most interesting one comes from such mishaps. Indeed… while it is not the happiest of tales, I think you will find it very educational.





	Out of All the Things That I Have Lived, the Best By Far Was You

Sour milk scent clung to the air, fear souring the normally comforting of pup. 

Choking sobs echoed down the hallways and a young nurse fled towards the sound, half-dressed and scent sour with fear. For a woman who had helped raise many young children in her day, this one was different. The young master was always so frail… his gaunt frame never seemed to sustain the vibrancy that one would expect from a boy of four. Throwing the chamber door open, she was greeted with the sight of her mistress already attending the hyperventilating child. She winced watching the child’s bare chest heave for the sweet kiss of oxygen and briefly thought of calling a doctor. However, her mistress chose then to acknowledge her presence and shook her head ever so slightly. 

“Jemima, there’s no need to panic. He was simply startled by his indicator.” Omega Nelly Conway Madison smiled down at her son and for a moment the child quieted, the soothing peach scent of his omega mother finally managing to overwhelm his prone form. The nurse blinked once, twice, before finally opening her mouth to speak. 

“Ma’am, isn’t it… a little early for him to have this?” The head omega’s sharp glare was enough to convince Jemima that perhaps something wasn’t right here. Indicators only came once the two in question were in close proximity. The odds of a mere child finding their soulmate lived so close… almost astronomical. 

“Even if it were inappropriate, it cannot be helped. Honestly, I would have thought you at least would be pleased. The sooner he becomes disillusioned the sooner his education can begin.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Jemima sighed internally. Of course that’s all her mistress would value. No, it wasn’t for the boy’s gain but rather his family’s legacy. She had seen situations like these before. James wasn’t going to last five minutes. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and shot the shaking child a sympathetic look. 

“Now James, tell Jemima what you see.” 

The statement was spoken as a request but both knew better. Nelly was accustomed to getting her way and this was no different. The tear-stained child turned to the only person he could trust, opening his mouth to speak. 

“I-I… I can see… those flowers outside. T-they’re purple, a-aren’t they?” 

There was such guarded hope on his face and Jemima felt her heart swell. Of course he would… Her boy had never been horribly confident with anything and of course this would be no different. Although, it could have something to do with the fact that she was the only person he knew that had waited for their soulmate. So putting on a cheery smile, she knelt down in front of him. 

“Very good, young master. They’re called violets. You know what that means, right?” 

The boy tilted his head in confusion. She smiled. 

“It means that your soulmate’s favourite colour is violet. A very respectable shade if I may.” 

The guard dropped and the smile that spread across the child’s face lit up the already bright room. In his eyes shone a whimsical sort of excitement; the kind that only small children are capable of with the innocence that resides within. Behind him, Nelly seemed to be working through the development and a sudden grip of fear constricted the nurse’s throat. God help her boy if Nelly came to the realization that she could flaunt this. For now, she could only pray that the innocent light wouldn’t go out. It shouldn’t go out. 

Three days later brought swarms of plantation owners to the Madison’s. Music echoed through the halls; the help had all been dressed in sharp suits and Nelly’s old dresses. In the centre of it all stood James, person after person going up to the boy. Some went in jealousy for lack of their own indicator; others in pride for the boy’s early start on becoming a man. 

They knew better. 

Developing an indicator meant nothing now. People hadn’t the time nor the resources to travel the world in search of one person. Especially in Virginia, people had taken to simply ignoring the indicator. They simply went on with their lives, completely ignoring the tug in their gut to search. Instead, families arranged their children’s marriages. Contracts would be drafted from birth and signed by all four parties involved once both child reached the age of 12. The first heat and rut were dangerous times but ultimately established just who was compatible. Even if pairs weren’t, often the arrangement was completed without their consent. It wasn’t as if anything could be done. 

Jemima watched her master shake hands with a strange planter. The two alphas had been discussing the eventual bonding of James to one Omega Margarita Plye. The girl was fourteen to the boy’s four yet both heads of the households agreed that the two would be necessary. The resulting ties would protect both farms in case a harvest was ever lost. The two gentlemen called for a toast and Jemima caught a hint of a smug smirk on Nelly’s face. Omega Madison had built her son up just to shatter any hope for the future outside of a very strict plan. 

James Madison officially had no control over his future. 

For seven years Jemima watched her boy grow into perhaps the sweetest young man she had ever met. His manners and overall personality were warm and welcoming… except around anyone else. Then she would watch that beautiful child shrink into himself, leaving only a shell of frailty and timidity. The transformation was especially bad around alphas or the more dominant betas. It became a liability to have James involved in the family business. 

For those who knew the signs, it should have been obvious what was going on. Jemima herself only knew because her own son had gone through the same process. 

But where she was from, it wasn’t a sin. 

In Virginia, it wasn’t uncommon for boys like James to be kicked out of their homes and left to fend for themselves. They were the American version of Britain’s street beggars. For someone who had seen both, Jemima was certain that these poor boys over here had it worse. Often times the boys would present in full view of the town. Some got lucky and were taken in by the natives. Others not so much. One particular memory bubbled to the surface. 

The boy couldn’t have been older than twelve. His face still hadn’t lost the round touches of youth; his frame barely came up to her hip. 

Tattered slacks and a threadbare jacket hung from the gaunt limbs. A strong scent of sickening sweetness surrounded him… the undeniable scent of slick. 

Yet the child didn’t make any effort to find shelter. Most omegas had the common sense- no, were raised with the common sense to get the hell out of there. This boy wasn’t most omegas. The prejudice had disabled him and now several alphas began to sniff the air. 

Eyes darkened and the tell-tale scent of arousal tinged the summer air. She wanted to scream at the boy to go. To run. 

A man of about thirty approached the child. His voice was rough and the boy went rigid. The only thing to cause such a reaction was a phenomena known commonly as the Alpha Voice. Its use is underhanded as it does not allow the omega it is directed at to refuse anything. Between bonded pairs, usage of the voice is a breach of trust. And yet… here a grown man was using it on a child. 

She could only watch in horror as the child was forced to present for the alpha and accepted the man’s disrespect. The way the man forced his will onto the child… she felt tears prick her eyes. 

Shrill cries echoed down the streets and what did they do? Lined up to take turns. She had never been more disgusted in all her life. 

No. Like hell she’d let her boy be in this house when he presented. No way in hell that James was going to suffer through that. From that moment, Jemima’s mind was made up. She was getting him out of there, no matter what it took. 

The next time she and her boy were in town, she spoke to a friend. When she practically tackled her friend in a hug, Edith knew something was wrong. 

“Edie, they’ll throw him out, I just know it. People gonna take advantage of him and oh Edie, I can’t let it happen!” 

The other omega shushed her calmly and then attempted to address the situation.

“Who are they going to throw out, Jem? What’s going on?” 

Jemima took a deep breath and mumbled back her response. 

“The young master. I’ve read the signs; he won’t present they way they want.” 

There was a moment of silence before she continued. 

“I don’t want him to get hurt. Can I send him to your master? I can disguise it as school and that way Mistress won’t get too suspicious.” 

Unfortunately, seven year old James chose that moment to come running in and cling to her legs. In pursuit was an older man Jemima recognized as Donald Robertson, the tutor she had just been discussing. However, the incessant pressure on her leg was her main concern. Untangling her skirts from the clenched fists, she knelt down to address the shaking child.

“Now, now young master. What’s this all about?” 

Deep doe eyes stared up at her; tears the size of pinpricks had formed in the corners. Jemima felt a stab of cold fear run down her spine. Who dared-

“J-jem… th- they… they were-” 

The boy’s breathing sped up and he began blubbering, stumbling over his words. 

“I saw Alpha Alcott approach a girl and- and…” 

A fresh wave of tears came forth and she hushed him. 

“I know, I know… It’s alright.” 

Opening her arms, Jemima allowed the boy to bury his face in her neck. Alpha Robertson watched, bemused, from next to Edith. The Scotsman had a slight flush to his cheeks and when he laughed, the air was tainted with the scent of beer. As if the alpha’s musk wasn’t bad enough. Even Edith, his slave and lover, leaned away to clear the wretched scent from her nostrils. Donald, though, was beginning to get impatient. 

“Care to explain why that kid ran away from me?” 

Despite the pleasant sounding tone, his words were heavy and cold. Jemima stood and fought the urge to gag. The scent was overpowering… 

“Sir, I apologise. The young master is not yet comfortable with most people.” 

Alpha Robertson narrowed his eyes. It was obvious he thought there was something more at play but Edith intervened. 

“Sir, Jemima here was just enquiring about finding a tutor for Mr. Madison here. You know I’m no good at making suggestions; perhaps you’ve got some?” 

The man’s entire countenance brightened and the harsh scrutiny dropped. His scent eased; raw grain transforming into the same comforting smell of baking bread. James cautiously peered up at the alpha. 

“Well if you’re looking’ for a well-rounded tutor, look no further. I’ve got curriculum ranging from Latin to basic maths.” 

She smiled blandly, her eyes only giving away minor interest. 

“But sir, you only teach presented children!” 

Donald shrugged. Most of his pupils were rich presented alphas, yes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle a child. Especially since those doe eyes were rather endearing… perhaps an obedient student would be a nice change. 

“Nonsense! Mr. Madison will be more than welcome; I’ll just have to speak to his parents. We’ll work out a payment system and all.” 

Jemima bit back a shout of excitement. Everything was going to work out. James was going to get out of here! As it was, her scent of spicy jasmine probably betrayed her. 

Sure enough, her charge was starting up at her, eyes dark with worry. She made a small noise reassurance in her throat and bowed to Alpha Robertson. 

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure the master and mistress send you a letter.” 

He nodded at her and Jemima took James’ hand to guide him home. Once outside of the other pair’s range of hearing, James spoke. 

“Jem…? Do you really want to get rid of me?”

The phrase was quiet and there was a great hesitance behind it. She almost tripped; that had come out of nowhere. 

“James… Jemmy… I would never want to get rid of you.” 

“Then why do you want me to go with Alpha Robertson?” 

“Darling, you’ll be going to school. He’ll teach you so much. Don’t you want to make me proud?” 

The boy nodded fiercely and she kissed his forehead. 

“Thank you. I know you’ll do well.”

On his eleventh birthday, James celebrated at Alpha Robertson’s. Jemima watched as the boy was enrolled in the Scotsman’s programme and let out a sigh of relief. Her boy was safe. 

It hadn’t been an easy battle. Nelly had been furious when Jemima had brought it up. For a moment, she even feared her mistress would hurt the boy. 

Thankfully, Alpha Madison had immediately approved of furthering his son’s education. What he thought would help the plantation… Jemima had sent a letter out that night. 

Of all the arrangements that had to be made, the price was the worst to negotiate. Amounts had been thrown back and forth for months until Nelly intervened. It took her all of five minutes to convince the tutor to agree. Jemima was afraid to ask how. 

Despite that, the endgame was perfect. James was finally away from his mother and Jemima prayed to every god she was wrong. 

‘Don’t let this child be an omega.’ 

In Robertson’s care, James flourished. Being around other people his age did wonders for his social interaction skills. Overall, there weren’t any people he was particularly close to. Most of his time was spent with his nose in a book or with an essay in front of him. That is, until the morning of his twelfth birthday. 

That morning he woke up with a fever. The other boys called Edith in to check on him; she pronounced him fine. However when he started fidgeting during their latin lesson, Donald had dealt with enough. Pulling James aside, he began to lay into the boy. 

“Son, do you have any idea how distracting you were?!” 

A mute nod. 

“Is there anything I-”

He trailed off, pupils dilating. An unfamiliar scent rose from the boy, who was progressively getting more and more agitated. His cheeks were flushed and the sickeningly sweet smell of slick glided through the halls. Fuck. Donald was rooted to the spot, one arm half reaching towards the boy. Some called for Edith. 

She practically ran down the hallway, escorting the trembling child in her arms. No… there was no longer a child in that body. James was presenting. 

Other students crowded around the door beyond which lay the omega slave and the poor student. Donald lost track of how many times Edith had to shoo them away. 

Sometime around five, the pitiful, gut-wrenching noises began. As the saying goes, the first heat is always the hardest. Lessons for the day had to be called off and several older students began to get restless. Irritability became like second nature and the common room became a breeding ground for discourse. 

Eventually someone snapped. They forced their way into the room and were immediately awash in new, untrained pheromones. Both had little to no willpower and thus the newly made omega was deflowered on the day he presented. Consent was not in the equation. 

James continued at school for four more years. 

He was still the only omega student Donald took on but it didn’t seem to bother the others. Of course that could have had something to do with the fact that they were allowed to have their way with him. As with the first time, consent was not the main concern. After all, he was an omega and they only existed to further an alpha’s will. 

The main perpetrator was Jack. At age 19, he was by far the oldest pupil in the school. However it was because of this status that many hated him. Every day he would begin harassing the young omega. This lasted until Edith intervened, usually after the morning lesson. James was then taught traditional tasks in the home, including embroidery. For a child (for that was still what he was) who would much rather conjugating verbs, these lessons were always difficult and demeaning. No matter how patient the slave was, he never took to the tasks. After those lessons concluded, though, was hell on earth. Jack and a few of the others would gather around him and taunt. The constant abuse wore him down and most days it was better to just drop down and take it. Present. Over and over until his battered knees could no longer support his weight, until blood mixed with slick and semen and it dripped out of and onto him, splattering the floor. Until the evidence of their crimes was as plain as the bruises on his hips. 

Of course, that wasn’t enough others. It’s in an alpha’s nature to be ruthless and merciless. They don’t consider an omega’s dignity to be anything but a threat. Even as young as most of them were, they were domineering. There were days when James couldn’t even open an eye; it was swollen shut. He would some days leave unable to walk. Jack or even Donald would have to carry him. 

When he returned to the chamber he and Edith shared, she would tsk in disappointment and tell him to lay down. She doctored his wounds to the best of her ability and the cycle would begin anew. 

It wasn’t as if he could write home about it either. Everything he sent was read by Alpha Robertson first, second by which ever pupil made the mail run, and third by his mother. The one time he got through, Nelly told her son to deal with it. She claimed it was obedience training and instructed him to hold his tongue. That letter had been to Jemima. She never got it.

While he was gone, Nelly had sold Jemima. His mother sold the only person who genuinely cared about him. And perhaps… even that was temporary; as temporary as a slave’s stay with a master.

The world had turned upside down in matter of years and nothing would ever be the same. 

At the age of 16, James was sent back home, much to his relief. Leaving the school was no extravagant affair. He cordially parted with Edith and shook Alpha Robertson’s hand before entering the coach his parents sent. As the vehicle pulled away from the manor, several of the others waved to him. He never looked back. 

Halfway through the trip home, James noticed the letter on the seat next to him. He opened it and began to read…

Omega Madison,  
First, allow me to extend my congratulations. It is an honour to be penning a letter to one of Alpha Robertson’s favourite students. Also, I heard you had a rough presentation. I must say, my heart broke at the notion. Hopefully these past sixteen heats have allowed you enough time to acclimate. However, pleasantries are not my goal. I write to you with the hope that you’ll be open to my courting. After meeting with your parents, they believe us to be a perfect match and I, quite frankly, approve. If you be receptive, I pray you’ll accept the courting collar enclosed within.  
Affectionately yours,  
E. Alcott (Elizabeth Alcott)

Staring down at the letter, James felt bile rise in his throat. Just because he was away… Nelly manipulated his future once again. Elizabeth Alcott… wasn’t she…

His eyes widened. This woman is over twenty years older than him. And still…

The envelope fell from the seat beside him. Inside, a delicate collar lay, taunting him. From the sound of it, the decision was made for him. Lifting the collar, James sighed. Once he put it on, there was no going back. 

It was fastened two hours before reaching home. 

There was no courting process. In order to save the Madison family from controversy, James became Omega Madison-Alcott on a cool June night just two days after coming home. 

The party was lavish, loud, and impossible to stomach. Everyone gave sympathetic looks to Omega Plye, who simply stared at the floor. Deep down he knew Nelly invited her only to guilt him into going along with this. 

He felt a stab of pain when she refused to talk to him but could only brush it off. He was being watched, after all. If anything, her curt behaviour only confirmed that their prior engagement had been cruelly cut off without the slightest warning. 

Across the room, his wife- God, that was going to take some getting used to- was being congratulated. Securing an omega was hard enough but to secure a wealthy one? Almost impossible. His father was even joining in, as if the other Madison children weren’t enough. It was never enough. James continued to try his best to deflect the other guests. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be over there?” 

An unfamiliar voice cut in and James was surprised to see a tall alpha standing next to him. The stranger was pointing towards the crowd. Unsurprising. 

“No more than you.” 

He shot back, eyes flashing. The stranger arched an eyebrow. 

“Are you not friends with the couple?” 

So they didn’t know then. James felt his shoulders drop and he took a deep breath. 

“No, I… I’m not exactly close to Alpha Alcott.” 

Not entirely a lie. Not exactly the truth either. 

“I’m not either; I only came to accompany my sister. She’s good friends with Elizabeth…” 

James was faintly impressed. Not too many alphas would willingly go off of someone else’s plan. So the stranger was fond of their family… what was that like? For someone who had seven siblings, James was certain he would never do that for any of them. 

Meanwhile the stranger continued to talk. Most of what was being said was about their sister, but the occasional antecedent was thrown in. The alpha had just finished telling about the time his parents caught their youngest sister sneaking off on a horse and James couldn’t help but smile. It was involuntary yet unavoidable. The stranger stopped mid sentence, eyes wide. 

“You shoulda seen- Whoa.” 

“What? Do I have something on my face?” 

A hand flew up to cover his mouth and the stranger shook their head. 

“No, no… It’s just, you should smile more often.” 

James felt his cheeks flare up and let out an undignified squeak of discomfort. The stranger reached for him and-

Nelly swiftly appeared by his side. 

“Pardon me, Alpha Jefferson, I need to escort my son back to his new mate.” 

He could have sworn a small growl came from the stranger until the alpha seemed to remember himself and his surroundings. 

“Of course, Omega Conway Madison.” 

They turned to James. 

“Nice talking with you.” 

The stranger waved and made their way across the room. James felt a pull in his gut. Something was telling him to follow. Something was crying out ‘you need them, go after them’. In the end, he didn’t move. His mother forcibly dragged him to Elizabeth’s side. It was then he lost sight of the stranger alpha. 

Only after the party, while the newlywed couple lay in bed, did he realise he never got the man’s first name. 

Nothing really changed after the wedding. Sure, James now sported a pale scar of a bite at the right juncture of his throat and shoulder but that was it. Elizabeth, being the alpha of the house, was often out managing the plantation. It was under her guidance that the family farm was renamed Montpelier. 

James was left to his own devices for the most part. That allowed him time to continue his studies without interruption. His only chore was to greet ‘Beth when she returned and to take one meal with her. So, with quite a bit of reluctance, the Alcotts were together for every evening meal. 

Over the first two months of their marriage, James was shocked to discover he actually enjoyed her company. She was well-versed in most disciplines and held shockingly progressive ideas about omegas. Most meals would be loud and boisterous, with the two cooking up extravagant ideas about ways to make society better. It was the highlight of James’ day. 

She would get so worked up, filthy pale hair falling out of the bun she normally wore, kind eyes sparkling with a wildfire James couldn’t help but want to burn in, and her arms waving violently as she accented her points. He would nod quietly, smiling whenever she made a particularly good point. Her eyes would light up more, knowing she had made him happy, even for a moment. In those moments, James could almost believe he could fall in love with this woman. 

At night though… that was when the feeling ceased. 

He was repulsed by her then, with her wandering hands and whispered condescending tone. Yes, he knew he was broken, thank you very much. He also knew that she wanted children. Badly. 

It would manifest at the worst times and James, only on his third month of marriage, began once again to dread his approaching heat. He wouldn’t be able to say no then, something both parties were well aware of. Hell, ‘Beth was looking forward to it. 

Under the surface was something James knew deep down was true and continued to deny. There was no way she would force herself on him. None. Not with how she talked about omega rights. Not with how she would always ask if something was okay. But something deep within his subconscious nagged at him. It screamed at him to get out of there. 

“Let me know if this isn’t okay, James.” 

During the day, she was sweet, considerate. Perhaps he was a fool to assume she wouldn’t change at night. 

On the first day of his heat, Elizabeth became the thing he feared most; she became a phantom from his past. Everything she said, did, reminded him of Jack and the others. Her calm voice jumped to insane octaves, causing discomfort to rise within him. Bile rose in his throat when he realised exactly what she was doing. 

The alpha voice. 

A betrayal of trust. 

Here he did actually lose control. He stumbled forward, the bile splattering on the walls. Elizabeth snarled angrily and jerked towards him. Her hand clenched in his hair and she wrenched his head back. 

“Get up, bitch. Don’t make this difficult for me.” 

He felt his spine go rigid and Elizabeth smirked. It wasn’t endearing, not like the others had been. Now all James could feel was panic and hate- oh God above help him, the sheer amount of undiluted loathing. It was directed at him, all of it. He choked again, eyes pricked by tears. A slap stung his cheek. He coughed. 

The blows rained down, one after another. Something wet dripped down his chest. Something else coloured his vision a sickly shade of dizzying grey. At this point he was beginning to fade. He barely felt the next few slaps; barely acknowledged his wife tearing the coverings from his body. She stood him up and pressed James to a window. 

Outside was a world of calm. Birds chattered happily back and forth, teasing the breeze, egging it on. Leaves swirled around in the currents, being swept from tree to tree. A slave was tending to a garden of vibrant purple flowers. Violets, if he remembered correctly. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, setting him at ease. 

Nothing prepared him for the pain of feeling his body split open when Elizabeth finally shoved her way in. Uncharacteristic shrill keens echoed down the empty halls of Montpelier. The pain continued in a sharp, rhythmic fashion, as if she wanted to prolong the experience. 

James didn’t know how long he’d been there, trapped between the window and his tormentor. And it wasn’t as if Elizabeth was close to stopping. If anything her hips sped up their punishing pace until… she let out a throaty screech of triumph. Her hand released his hair and he collapsed, entire body wracked by tremors. A familiar mixture of fluids dripped out of him and James couldn’t even bring himself to cry. Tears simply would not fall, no matter how he wished they would. 

Instead he sat there, dry heaving and shaken by silent sobs. Across the hallway, he could hear his siblings. Someone headed for the door and he wanted to scream but nothing came out. He couldn’t even focus on the approaching figure before he blacked out. 

One month later and James still avoided his wife. Now that the hormone-crazed week of heat had faded away, he had taken to carrying himself differently. 

His shoulders stayed hunched around him, as if to block invisible attackers from touching the vulnerable, tender skin still marked up from their coupling. His hands shook when trying to do the simplest of tasks, even gesturing slightly. His eyes were constantly downcast, no matter who he was talking to. 

James got sick more often than he liked to admit after that. 

He suffered two bouts of pneumonia before Elizabeth left him. Well, not left him as in divorce, but still. She packed a bag and went to go stay in a tavern. While James coughed up his lungs at home, she spent her days entertaining one Omega Plye. 

The two women had been friends- lovers- once upon a time, and Elizabeth saw no reason that should change. Their reunion lasted a blissful three days before her paramour’s betrothed appeared. As is customary, the other alpha challenged her to a duel for the omega’s honour. Only one left the tavern that night. 

When the carriage returned to Montpelier, James wasn’t sure how to feel. On one hand, he was relieved his wife knew how to manage her trips away before the tug on the mating bond became to uncomfortable for both parties. On the other…? Fear; pure, unadulterated fear addled his mind. If she was that bad without alcohol, what would she do with it? He was spared from finding out. 

Exiting the carriage was a nightwatchman from the nearby town. Rushing to the door, he wildly groped about in his mind for their mating bond. Static. Panic flared up and he flung open the door, not caring about both his current state of undress and his sickness. 

“Where is she? What happened?!” 

The watchman shook his head sadly.

“Omega Madison…” A pause. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

He swallowed hard. Braced himself for the worst of it.

“How… what happened?”

The beta shifted nervously. There was an awkward moment of silence before the watchman answered. 

“There was a duel. Your wife had… gotten pretty involved with an already claimed omega and the other alpha presented the challenge. She went down defending her honour.” 

Oh.  
OH. 

James nodded, as if he had already resigned himself to this fate. A widower after only four months of marriage. Wasn’t that a new family record. 

“Thank you, sir. I… I appreciate you telling me.” 

The beta tipped his hat and bid the omega good night. James was alone. 

Shutting the door carefully, he collapsed against the wood. Pulling his knees up to his chest, all of the pain he’d bottled up since age twelve came pouring out. 

He was blubbering like the youngest pup in the nursery and couldn’t care less. The tears just would not stop falling. They decorated every floorboard and his nightshirt was soaked. By the time a house slave found him, James was already asleep. 

He awoke in a bedroom. It was not his, at least he didn’t think it was, and yet… it was too familiar just to disregard. The curtains were drawn over the windows so a soft, muted light poured in. It still blinded him. 

Where he lay was dressed with warm woolen sheets and a heavy quilt. They were arranged in such a way that it was almost as if someone had been laying next to him. 

Someone moved in the hallway. He tried to sit up rapidly, too quickly for his fragile state. Lights, speckles, all grey and white, danced before his eyes. The splotches swirled violently, slow at first but getting faster and faster until he had no choice but to lay down again. 

Sleep called for him, an unforgiving mistress who cajoled- demanded his immediate return to her domain. He gave in, embracing her openly and sinking into the soft bosom of darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> jfc what is this. why did i. well here ya go ao3. enjoy sinners.


End file.
